Each weekday on this blog you will find an episode of a western short story featuring Rance Dehner, a detective who operates in the old West. When the story concludes, it will be archived for those readers who prefer to read a story from start to finish.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Dehner and his boss both thanked the sheriff for his help
and stepped out onto the boardwalk. Workmen were putting the final touches on
the gallows. Both detectives looked grimly at the scene in front of them.
Lowrie spoke first: “Mrs. Sarah McRae believes her son is innocent of murder,
and I agree with her.”

Rance had participated in the interview with Sarah McRae at
the office of the Lowrie Detective Agency in Dallas. Dehner suspected that Sarah
could not afford to pay the agency its usual fee. This case probably came under
the classification of charity work. As was his custom, Bertram Lowrie would
inform his employee of the altruism after they were finished.
Nothing like this would ever happen to a Pinkerton operative.

Dehner smiled inwardly. That’s why he worked for the Lowrie agency.

But there was one aspect of the case that bothered the detective. “I’m sure you
know sir, that I enjoy working with you on an assignment,” Dehner lied. “But
why did you pick this case?”

Bertram Lowrie looked about the town of Jameson with eyes that were
narrow and penetrating. “As I have already said, Bart McRae is innocent of
murder, but he is guilty of foolish superstition. Old wives tales have
destroyed many fine men and marred civilizations. I take every opportunity to
expose frauds such as ghosts and dead men who write letters.”

“We need to expose them quickly.” Dehner pointed at the gallows. “The family
fun Sheriff Miley was talking about is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

Episode Eight

***

As the
train pulled away from the Jameson Station, Rance Dehner hastened from the
poorly lit depot into the black thickness of night. He moved toward the sounds
of a battered piano and drunken laughter. Entering the Happy Days saloon, the
detective scanned the establishment for his boss.

Bertram
Lowrie sat by himself at a table in a far corner. As Dehner eased himself into
a chair across from the brit, Lowrie pointed at the bottle of whiskey that now
stood between them.

“You see
before you the cost for the privilege of being allowed to sit at this filthy
table, in this wretched establishment.” Lowrie pushed an empty glass at Dehner.
The glass, while not filthy, was far from clean. “Fill it up. You’ll fit into
the ambiance better. Not that anyone is really paying any attention to us.”

As Dehner
poured the whiskey, he noticed a full glass in front of his boss. “Be sure to
put the cost of the whiskey on our client’s bill.”

Lowrie
actually squirmed in his seat. “I will discuss that matter with you
later.”

Rance
Dehner felt guilty about how much he enjoyed needling his boss, but not too
guilty. Still, there was very important work to tend to. “I was right,” Dehner
declared, “it would have been impossible for Wyatt Cummings to recognize Bart
from the train depot, even if he were stone sober. Cummings claimed to have
been drinking.”

“Claimed is
the operative word,” Bertram’s eyes focused on Wyatt Cummings, who was deeply
involved in a poker game several tables away. “Earlier this evening, I took
part in idle chit chat with idle men. Cummings drinks, but not to excess. He
spends most of his time playing cards. I am certain Wyatt Cummings was
expecting Bart McRae to get off that train. His drunken act was just that, an
act.”

“I talked
with the owner of the local general store,” Dehner said. “Wyatt buys stuff
there and always pays,--never asks for credit. He occasionally makes large
purchases of food. Made one today.”

“Interesting,”
Lowrie’s voice was a quick snap. “What did you find out about Jesse Monahan?”

“The owner
of the Lucky Aces down the street, Rush Sowell, is about the closest thing to a
friend that Jesse had in this town. Jesse started as a dealer there but soon
outgrew Jameson and moved on to greener pastures. Apparently Jesse Monahan was
a real sharper, made good money from the cards. The incident that landed Bart
in jail happened early in Jesse’s career.”

“If Jesse
Monahan is now moving in such high circles, why does he continue to live in
Jameson?”

“According
to Sowell, Adrian Monahan left his house to Jesse. He also left behind a pile
of debt from his failed stagecoach line. A lot of Adrian’s creditors are
claiming the house should be sold and the money divided between them. Jesse is
fighting them in court. He comes back to Jameson and lives in the house as a
way of asserting his ownership.”

Dehner
placed his arm on the table, only to hastily remove it when his shirt began to
stick on some scum he didn’t wish to identify. “Judging from the letters and papers
on his desk, I suspect Jesse liked to have that house as something of a base. A
gambler moves around a lot.”

“Yes, I
have looked at the house myself.” Bertram paused for a moment, taking in everything
he had been told. “Oh, did you ever find that doctor?”

Dehner
smirked. “The town doc has been bought off. He wouldn’t tell me anything about
Adrian’s wound. My questions made him very nervous.”

“As well
they should,” Lowrie replied. “The bullet from a Colt .44 can do terrible
things to a man’s head, but completely blow it away?! I don’t think so. We are
close to uncovering a very evil plot, of which Bart McRae is the next intended
victim.”

The Posse

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Bio

As a kid, I idolized Hopalong Cassidy, which was the most intelligent choice I made during my first thirty years. Much of my professional life has been spent as a literary agent, but I also wrote westerns to prove I didn’t always have to live off the work of other people.
I can now devote myself full time to writing in a genre I love. I’m being a straight shooter when I say your opinion is important to me. When you have a moment, let me know what you think about Wild West Detective. Alas, the western genre has been riding over some tough territory for several decades. I hope this site can bring new folks into the corral and give them a taste of the fun that the western has given me.
jamesclay20@gmail.com